


Maple Syrup

by InsaneHam



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, maple syrup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneHam/pseuds/InsaneHam
Summary: Odd. Even while the world was spinning around him, all he could think about was the syrup. The beautiful amber liquid slowly and surely sliding it’s way down his throat, plugging up his airway until all he could feel - all he could breathe was that familiar sugar on the back of his tongue.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Maple Syrup

A gleaming silver fork clattered against the porcelain tiles. Warm caramel-coloured syrup oozed off its tall arches, globs of sugar drooling downward in a lazy river. Crumbling bits of bright fluffy pancake melted into the thick maple stream. For a moment America stared, entranced, before a soft voice broke through his daze.

“Hey America? You dropped your fork.” Canada picked up his dropped cutlery by the handle, careful to avoid the sticky syrup. A single strand of the stuff was stuck to the floor and broke away from the rest, dropping into a sticky mess.

“America?” Canada questioned again. This time he leaned in, one brow quirked intently. “Are you still awake, eh?”

America opened his mouth to reassure his brother - he was America, the hero of course he was fine - but the words came out slurred and incomprehensible. It was like the attic of his mind had suddenly accumulated a load of sugar-spun cobwebs. He could see, but it didn’t penetrate the musty attic. Everything felt so surreal; colours were too bright and blurred into one another as if he were in a dream. It was too much, yet he wanted to see more. America automatically raised a hand to adjust Texas but his sweaty, trembling fingers couldn’t keep hold of the thin frame.

Odd. Even while the world was spinning around him, all he could think about was the syrup. The beautiful amber liquid slowly and surely sliding it’s way down his throat, plugging up his airway until all he could feel - all he could breathe was that familiar sugar on the back of his tongue. But no- this was different, so far removed from the happy meals they had shared together. It was sweet-too sweet like the time England had mistaken flour for sugar and forced it down his throat anyway. But this wasn’t a failure of cooking. This was syrup. Maple syrup. Canada would never stand for-

Canada.

When he looked up Canada’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern. Parts of the sounds pounded through his mind, echoing in the empty chamber and shaking the cobwebs loose. Canada. It was Canada.

He opened his mouth - to do what he wasn’t sure. Shout, comfort, punch, hug? In the end it didn’t matter because the stifling syrup chose that moment to rebel and in place of words there was only the half-digested pancakes. Canada reached out a hand but he flailed away, sending not only his plate crashing to the floor, but the bottle as well. He would have landed upon the shattered shards had Canada not caught him, settling America’s head over his warm shoulder like you would a baby. At any other time America would have objected but currently he was too busy trying to rationalize his revelation-Canada- and choke out the burning syrup as fast as possible. The disgusting green result of his meal soon formed a small puddle of the floor.

Right beside his ear Canada had kept on talking, panic ringing clear through his gibbered chatter. America could do no more than whimper pathetically in response. He just couldn’t think, like the cobwebs had gotten him stuck with their stickiness and held him there. Every noise was like a hammer blow to the head and all he wanted to do was just curl up and go to sleep and wish this confusing pain away.

A drop of water touched his cheek, a single note of clarity before the thundering darkness overtook him. His brother, shaking and crying, clutching him close and sobbing out, “I’m sorry, America, I’m so so sorry.”

And then he was pulled under, drowning in that warm syrup.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Did I overuse the syrup too much? Were there some parts that were better than others, or any that need some work?
> 
> Also, don’t be afraid to point out any spelling errors! Thanks.


End file.
